Scarlet and Gold
by renrenren3
Summary: Dean, rash and with a tendency to get into trouble, is the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Cas, shy and awkward and completely without a sense of humour, is the new Hufflepuff Seeker. Dean wants to win the Cup more than anything... or does he?
1. Mail from Hogwarts

**Author's note:** This is an AU in which Harry Potter and his friends have been replaced with Dean and Cas and all the SPN cast, so there have been some changes in the dynamics between the Houses. I had the idea for this fic when I saw Lettie's SPN fanart on Tumblr which is seven kinds of adorable. This isn't strictly speaking a fanfic for her universe, since I borrowed many elements but also added and changed several others to fit with the story that I wanted to tell.

Sorry about how short this chapter is, the others will be longer. I wrote it in Italian first and now I'm translating it as fast as I can, which isn't very fast at all.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Mail from Hogwarts<strong>

The letter from Hogwarts arrived at the end of July.

Sammy stared with wide eyes, his spoon halfway between his mouth and the bowl of cereals, while a huge spotted owl dropped two letters on the kitchen table. It was funny to see his brother look so flustered. Dean laughed, and almost choked on a piece of toast.

"Stupid birds," muttered John Winchester, brushing a couple of feathers from his breakfast. "I hope the neighbours won't complain again... Dean, stop making fun of your brother. If I'm not mistaken, when you got your first letter from Hogwarts you were so excited that you almost peed yourself."

When their father left the table to check the eggs and bacon, Dean stuck out his tongue at Sam.

"One of those is mine, isn't it?" Sam asked, too nervous to be upset at Dean's mockery.

"Of course it is, dummy," Dean said. "It's got your name on it and everything. _Mr Samuel Winchester, The Small Flat On The Fourth Floor, 2 Hunter Street, London_..."

Sam tore his envelope open with shaky hands and started reading the letter. Dean, at his fifth year by now, smirked with superiority and decided to take his time.

John gave him a generous helping of fried eggs from the pan. "Aren't you going to read your letter?" he asked Dean.

"I'm going to finish eating first," Dean said, his mouth full of eggs and toast. "It's going to be just the list of books anyway. I'm not going to become prefect, so whatever."

"That's because you're always getting into trouble," his father said. "This year, you try and behave. You've got to show a good example to your brother."

Dean rolled his eyes. "I don't _get into trouble_, it's just that Professor Crowley hates me." he said. He refrained to add that Crowley hated him because in his first week of his first year Dean had covered the floor of his office with toad slime.

Before his father could recall that particular incident, he took his letter and opened it.

"It just says the usual stuff," he told his father as he scanned the letter. "The Deputy Headmaster is letting us know that term starts on September 1st, train leaves from King's Crossing as usual, there's a bunch of new books... Oh!" he exclaimed once he reached the bottom of the page.

Sam looked up from his letter, which he'd probably already read three times. "What?" he asked.

"I became captain of the Quidditch team!" Dean exclaimed.

That was the best possible news. Dean was Gryffindor's Seeker, and Quidditch was one of his very favourite things about Hogwarts. He was still upset at the thought of having been defeated by Hufflepuff in the last match and he couldn't wait for a rematch.

"This year we're going to win the Quidditch Cup," Dean said. His brother looked at him admiringly.

"I'm happy for you, Dean," his father said. "Sam, eat those eggs before they get cold. I've got to go to work."

Mr Winchester worked as a mechanic in a garage. He was a Muggle and didn't understand much about Hogwarts and about magic. He had married a witch, Dean and Sam's mum, but she had died many years ago. Dean didn't remember her very well.

Despite his feigned indifference, Dean was happy that Sam got his letter. They were both half-blood, and Sam had spent the last few weeks worrying that he didn't have enough magic to go to Hogwarts. Dean thought that even if it turned out that he was a Muggle, it wouldn't have been too bad: he could have been a mechanic and help John at the garage. But being a wizard and casting spells and playing Quidditch was much more fun.

Dean couldn't wait to go back to Hogwarts. The Winchesters lived in a Muggle neighbourhood, so he couldn't practice magic during the summer holidays. He couldn't even write to his friends very often, because his neighbours would have been suspicious if they kept seeing owls coming and going from his bedroom's window.

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><p>Between one thing and the other, Dean had to wait until late in August before John found time to bring them to Diagon Alley to buy their school supplies.<p>

Like every year, John complained about how hard it was to find parking in that part of the city. "It's a pain to get to this pub," he grumbled when they finally reached the Leaky Cauldron. "How does it work, again? Do we have to ask the owner to open the entrance at the back?"

"No need, I can do it," said Dean, who couldn't wait to do some magic. Sammy and his father followed him into the pub's tiny courtyard.

Dean took his wand from the pocket of his jeans and hit one of the bricks of the wall, which immediately opened to reveal the street and all its magic shops.

Sam had never been to Diagon Alley: the other times he was too little and John left him with Pastor Jim while he and Dean went shopping. Now Sam was looking around, his mouth wide open with stupor, and he kept glancing at Dean.

"When I have a wand, will I be able to cast spells like that, too?" he asked his brother.

"If you can learn how to do it," his brother replied.

"Stop bragging, Winchester," said a voice behind him. Dean recognized the speaker as Raphael Milton, one of Slytherin's prefects. "That was just an automatic spell, any half-blood with a wand could have done it."

Dean turned, his face crimson. "Looking for trouble, Milton?" he asked pointing his want at Raphael. "Professor Crowley won't be around to save your sorry arse when I make all of your hair fall out with a curse."

John frowned. "Let's go, boys," he said. He put his hands on Dean's and Sam's shoulders and pushed them away.

As they were leaving, Dean turned back and noticed that Raphael was glaring at his father. Mr Winchester, with his jeans and his plaid shirt, looked very out of place in a street full of wizards wearing cloaks and pointy hats.

Dean was pissed at the thought of Raphael insulting him in front of his father and his little brother. He tried to explain that Raphael was an arrogant bastard who thought he was better than everyone else because he came from a very old family, and that he was in sore need of someone teaching him a lesson, but his father wanted to hear none of it.

"That's enough," he said. "I don't want you to get in a fight. I'm not a wizard, if you get in trouble with your school I won't be able to help you."

He didn't even allow Dean to check out the Quidditch equipment store, dragging him directly to Gringotts. Dean pouted, but his mood improved a lot when Sam gasped at the sight of the goblins.

Mr Winchester changed some Muggle banknotes and received in exchange a small pile of gold coins. "I hope it'll be enough to pay everything," he muttered. Wizard money always confused him.

Between Dean's list and Sam's list, there were a lot of things to buy. Sam was ecstatic when they visited Flourish & Blotts, and it took them forever to drag him away from the books. Then Dean spent some very uncomfortable fifteen minutes on Madam Malkin's stool while the witch stuck hundreds of pins on him and measured him for new school clothes, since he'd grown again over the summer.

Finally they reached their final stop, Ollivander's. Sam was trying to act nonchalant, but it was obvious that he was beside himself with glee at the thought of finally getting a wand.

Mr Ollivander greeted them with a bow from behind the counter.

"Mr Winchester," he said with a small smile. "Ash, thirteen inches, dragon heartstring. A fine wand."

Dean nodded. The shop, dark and dusty and filled to the ceiling with boxes of wands, made him feel uneasy.

"And there's another Mr Winchester," Ollivander continued, turning towards Sam. "Here for your first wand, I suppose."

While Ollivander was taking Sam's measurements, the small bell above the door rang to mark the arrival of new clients. The newcomers were a tall witch with a stern face and a little blonde girl. The witch made a noise of surprise as she stepped inside.

"Winchester!" she exclaimed, turning towards John.

"Hi, Ellen," he replied. If he too was surprised, he didn't show it. "It's been a while since the last time we saw each other." Dean waved a greeting to the little girl, but she ignored him.

The witch nodded. "Are they your sons?" she asked. "They took after her."

"Dean and Sam," John said, pointing to them in turn. Dean was following the exchange with great curiosity. "Your daughter Jo is all grown up too..."

They were all distracted by a huge cascade of silver sparks, and Sam rushed over to tell them that his new wand was made with a special wood, because he was the typical geek who would care about stuff like that. Mr Ollivander wrapped up the new wand (vine, ten inches and one quarter, unicorn hair) with great care and presented it to Sam with another bow and a flourish.

John and Ellen exchanged some more words before saying goodbye, talking so quietly that Dean couldn't hear what they were saying. Before leaving the shop, Dean turned back one last time and saw Mr Ollivander measuring the length of the little girl's left arm.

"Dad, who's that witch?" Dean asked once they were back outside. He had no clue that his father knew people from the magical world.

John lowered his eyes. "She knew your mother," was all that he said, and Dean didn't ask any more questions.


	2. September 1st

**Chapter 2: September 1st**

John Winchester took the morning off from work to drive the boys to King's Crossing. He loaded both of their trunks on a trolley, despite Dean's assurance that he could do it himself, and pushed the trolley to the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

"Here we are," he said. "Dean, can you take it from there?"

"Of course, dad," Dean replied.

Mr Winchester couldn't go through the magical barrier, so they said goodbye before crossing to platform nine and three-quarters.

"Be good and make sure to study," dad told Sam, as if there was any need to. "As for you, Dean, you behave this year. Take care of your brother."

Sam pouted. "I'm _eleven_ now, I don't need him to take care of me," he complained, but Dean laughed and ruffled his hair.

"Don't worry, Sammy is safe with me," Dean said. "See you next summer."

"Sooner than that, I hope," his father said with a small smile. "You'll be coming home for the Christmas holidays, won't you?"

Dean nodded, unsure. "If you're not too busy," he said.

"Of course!" his father said. "Don't forget to write. I don't care if the neighbours complain, let me know how things are going."

After a quick hug, Dean was the first to push his trolley through the barrier and step on the platform. Sam followed shortly after, still pouting.

"Cheer up, Sammy, we're going to Hogwarts," Dean said. He didn't want to argue with his brother on his first day. "For a school, it's not too bad..."

Sam shook his head. "You know, dad won't have time for us," he said. "Last year, when you came home for Christmas, he worked all the time and left us alone."

Dean's face clouded. "It's not his fault," he said. "Hogwarts' tuition isn't cheap, and now he's got to pay for both of us."

"You don't know anything, you weren't home for the past four years," Sam insisted. "Maybe you don't notice because you've always been his favourite."

Before Dean could reply, he thrust his hands in his pockets and ran off towards the train.

"Hey!" Dean exclaimed, but didn't go after his brother. To look after him didn't mean that they should be attached at the hip, Sam would manage on his own. Anyway, Dean would have died of embarrassment if his friends saw him dragging his kid brother around all the time.

He loaded the two trunks on the train and started looking for a seat. Towards the front of the train he found a compartment that was almost empty, save for a couple of Gryffindors sitting next to the window.

Dean sat down and stretched his legs on the seat in front of him. "Hi, Victor," he said. "Gordy, how are you?"

Gordon Walker nodded at him. "Hi," he replied, laconic.

"You're late as usual, Dean," said Victor Henricksen by way of a greeting. Both him and Gordon were in Dean's year. Victor was the Keeper of the Quidditch team, while Gordon played Beater.

"Celebrities are allowed to be fashionably late," Dean replied with a grin.

Victor rolled his eyes. "You think too highly of yourself," he said, though he had a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He pointed to a silver badge pinned on his robes. "You better behave this year, I'm your new prefect."

Dean smirked with superiority. "Is that so? Guess who's your new Quidditch captain."

His friend gave him the thumbs-up. "Congrats," he said. "I knew Singer would pick you, you've always been his favourite."

"Too true," Gordon grumbled, apparently talking with the window, but loud enough so that everyone heard him.

Dean froze. "What do you mean?" he snapped.

Gordon turned to stare at him. "You know perfectly well what I mean, Winchester," he replied. "Singer has been playing favourites ever since you got on the team."

"Come on, Gordon, that was just a joke," Victor tried to say in a soothing tone, but Dean's clenched his fists and jumped to his feet.

"You're a moron," he told Gordon, "and I've got half an idea to replace you with someone who can really play Quidditch, unlike you."

He left the compartment in such a hurry that he almost cannonballed into a couple of Ravenclaws who were just passing.

Victor ran after him. "Dean, don't be mad," he said. "We all know that Singer chose you on talent alone."

Dean made a face. "Not all," he replied. "Not Gordon. He's been holding a grudge ever since I made Seeker instead of him in third year."

Victor shook his head and didn't reply to that. "You two warthog-heads should try to get along, otherwise our chances of winning the Cup will be less than zero," he said instead. "Gordon might be stubborn and brash, but he's a damn good Beater."

He was right, as usual, but Dean didn't care to spend the whole journey listening to Gordon's snide remarks. He said goodbye to Victor and went looking for another compartment. With some luck, his rage would have subsided by the time they got to Hogwarts. It wouldn't have been good to start his career as Quidditch captain by throttling one of his players.

Meanwhile the Hogwarts Express had left the station behind and was racing through the countryside. The front of the train was always packed full, so Dean headed down the corridor in the other direction.

A couple of carriages down he found his brother in a compartment full of first years. Sammy was talking with a really cute girl and he blushed crimson when Dean asked him if he'd found himself a girlfriend already. Dean made a mental note to tease him more about that later.

Further along there were Raphael and some of his cousins. The Miltons were a huge family, there were four of them in that compartment alone, all dressed in immaculate uniforms with the Slytherin colours. Dean noticed Anna Milton, one of the cutest fifth years. Luckily she was talking with Raphael and her back was turned to the corridor: she had gone out a couple of times with Dean in their fourth year, with disastrous results, and Dean didn't really want to be seen by her. He quickly walked past.

All the other carriages were full. Dean considered going back to Sam's and travelling with the first years but then, at the very end of the train, he found a compartment that was almost completely empty. The only occupant, a boy with dark hair that Dean didn't know, was engrossed in the reading of a huge leather-bound book.

"Are those seats free?" Dean asked.

The boy nodded without looking up from his book. Dean sank down on a seat in front of him. For some minutes, nobody spoke.

Dean looked out of the window, then he stared at the book and tried to guess what it was about. It didn't look like any of their textbooks. Maybe Sam would have liked it, but Dean didn't care much about books.

He was more interested about finding out who this kid was, since he knew most of the students. The boy was wearing Muggle attire, jeans and a t-shirt, so Dean didn't even know which House he was in.

The journey to Hogwarts was long, and it didn't take much for Dean's curiosity to get the better of him.

"I'm Dean," he said. "Dean Winchester."

The other boy glanced at him, and for a moment Dean saw a round face and two blue eyes. "Castiel," he said, going back to his book.

That wasn't nearly enough to satisfy Dean's curiosity. He didn't even know if Castiel was the student's first or last name.

"I'm a fifth year," Dean insisted. "Gryffindor."

"I know," Castiel said. "I saw you playing Quidditch last year."

That at least was something. Dean grinned. "Do you like Quidditch?"

Castiel shrugged. "A bit. Do you like it?"

"Of course I do!" Dean exclaimed, warming up. "It's my favourite thing _ever_. This year we're going to wipe the floor with the Hufflepuffs and take back the Quidditch Cup."

"I'm in Hufflepuff," Castiel replied, his tone neutral.

Dean's smile froze on his lips. "Er... I mean... What I meant is..."

The other shrugged. "I didn't take offence."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Typical of him to make a fool of himself, but seeing the book he had assumed that Castiel was a Ravenclaw bookworm. He watched Castiel turn a page.

"What are you reading?" he asked after a while.

Castiel put a finger between the pages to keep his place and showed him the cover of the book. The title was printed in faded silver letters, but Dean managed to decipher it.

"_Portents & Prophecies_," he read. "_A Complete Manual For The Modern Warlock_."

"It's not very modern," Castiel said, almost apologetically. "It's from last century, but aside from the textbook it's the only book on Divination that I found at home."

"You're taking Divination?"

Castiel nodded. "I'm starting this year. It seems to be an interesting subject. You?"

"No, it's too..." Dean stopped himself before he could say "too stupid". Trying to predict the future felt like a waste of time to him: after all, the future wasn't something already decided. But he didn't want to give offence twice in as many minutes, so instead he said, "I'm taking Care of Magical Creatures instead."

It was one of his favourite subjects, and Dean embarked in a lengthy tale about how last year Professor Singer had taken the class into the Forbidden Forest and showed them a unicorn foal.

Castiel seemed to like the story, and he even closed his book to listen. "I read somewhere that younger unicorns are gold instead of white," he said after Dean had finished talking, "but I've never seen one. I wish I'd chosen Care of Magical Creatures too."

"Which other subjects do you have?" Dean asked.

Castiel counted them on the tip of his fingers. "Divination, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

Dean whistled. "Tough ones!"

For a moment Castiel's expression changed, but his face went back to neutral so quickly that Dean thought he might have imagined it. "My parents insisted that I take Ancient Runes," Castiel said. "It's a family tradition."

"My dad is a Muggle," Dean shrugged. "So I don't have any tradition to carry on. I chose Muggle Studies instead, I like it a lot because it's easy and I can get good grades without having to study. It's too bad you don't have a subject like that to choose. It could be called something like Magical Studies..."

There were a few seconds of silence. "I don't understand," Castiel said after a while, tilting his head sideways."

"It was a joke," Dean said, trying to grin. "Magical Studies because you're from a family of wizards, it would be the same of Muggle Studies for students who come from a Muggle family."

Castiel was sill staring. "But all of our courses could be termed 'magical studies'," he said, making quotation marks with his fingers.

Dean was tempted to reply with another joke, but Castiel seemed honestly baffled. He decided to gave up trying to explain any further. "Never mind," he said, and he changed the subject.

By the time the lunch cart came by, Castiel's book had been put aside and the two boys were talking about their favourite and least favourite teachers. Castiel liked Professor Missouri, who was Head of Hufflepuff House and taught Herbology. Dean found her tyrannical and preferred the Deputy Headmaster, Professor Singer. Both boys agreed that Crowley was the worst teacher that Hogwarts had ever seen.

After lunch, Dean took out a deck of cards and taught Castiel how to play poker. Castiel had never seen Muggle playing cards and he kept poking the figures to see if they would move. His deadpan face was good for bluffing, but he kept forgetting the values of the various combinations and he kept losing badly.

"One more," he insisted after every hand, only to lose once again. Dean hasn't been keeping score, but he figured that if they had been gambling then Castiel would have owed him several hundreds of Galleons. Castiel didn't seem too upset by that, though, and the two boys only stopped playing when the train stopped at Hogsmeade Station.

They got changed in a hurry, pulling their robes over jeans and t-shirts, and they were among the last students to get off the train. Dean glimpsed a column of first years heading off towards the lake. He wanted to run after Sam and wish him good luck, but at the gates of the station Victor was gesturing for him to get a move.

He was about to go and join his friends when Anna Milton stepped in front of him.

"Winchester," she snapped. "What were you doing with my brother?"

"Your brother?" Dean repeated, not understanding. His stare went from Anna, with her red hair and her new Slytherin prefect badge, to Castiel, with his rumpled clothes and mussed hair from when he pulled on his robes in a hurry. Castiel shrugged. "_He_'s your brother?" Dean asked Anna, still not really believing it.

"Don't play dumb, Winchester," Anna said. "It's over between us, so leave my family alone. Let's go, Cassie."

Anna grabbed Castiel's hand and pulled him towards the exit. Castiel waved goodbye, but Dean was too surprised to reply.

He knew that Anna had a younger brother, but for some reason he'd always imagined him as a miniature copy of Anna, a little red-haired Slytherin. Castiel was completely different from her. That shouldn't have come as such a surprise, since after all Dean himself wasn't precisely identical to his brother, but it was still weird to think that he'd just spent the whole journey talking to a Milton, and even weirder to realize that it had been fun.

Dean put these thoughts aside as he caught up with Victor and Gordon just outside the gates of Hogsmeade Station.

Gordon still looked pissed. "About time you showed up!" he grumbled.

"Where in Merlin's name did you run off to?" Victor asked, but in a much friendlier tone. "Was that Anna Milton? Don't tell me you were hitting on her again!"

Dean shook his head. "No way, she said it's over," he said, not bothering to mention the rest of his conversation with her. If his friends wanted to think he'd spent the day with Anna, Dean wasn't going to correct that assumption. It was better than having to explain about Castiel, and how he'd had a great time talking to a Hufflepuff that he barely knew.

During the short carriage ride, Victor finally managed to make peace between Dean and Gordon. At first they both shook hands grudgingly and kept glaring at each other, but by the time the carriage stopped in front of the castle they were on friendly terms again.

"It's your brother's first year, isn't it?" Gordon asked Dean while they marched into the Great Hall. "Do you think he'll be a Gryffindor too?"

"Of course he will," Dean replied with a grin. His mother had been a Gryffindor, and his grandparents too. It was one of the reasons why Dean liked being at Hogwarts so much.

As the boys were sitting down at the Gryffindor table, Headmaster Shurley made his entrance, followed by all his staff members. Headmaster Shurley was... weird. There wasn't a word that could describe him better. He wasn't old at all, quite the contrary, he was younger than many of the other teachers. Before arriving at Hogwarts he'd spent most of his life writing a series of unsuccessful novels about two Muggle brothers.

Dean knew the headmaster very well, having been sent to his office several times when one of his jokes had really angered a teacher. Usually Shurley shook his head and started scolding Dean, only to lose track of what he was saying and start telling stories instead. He was completely barmy, but Dean liked him. He grinned as Shurley passed by.

On the other hand, Dean couldn't stand Professor Crowley.

"Do you think I could manage to Transfigure his goblet of pumpkin juice into a toad?" Dean asked in an undertone.

Victor and Gordon laughed. Crowley didn't hear the joke, otherwise he wouldn't have missed the opportunity to give Dean detention, but he saw them laughing and went over to where they were sitting.

"Mr Winchester," Crowley said, giving them a nasty smile. "Mr Walker. Perhaps you two would like the dubious honour of becoming the only students ever to lose points before the start-of-term feast?"

Luckily, Professor Singer entered just then with the first years in tow. "Crowley, never mind those idiots," he told his colleague. "We're about to start the Sorting Ceremony."

Professor Crowley seemed about to argue, but both Headmaster and Deputy Headmaster were staring at him. He made a face and strode off to sit at the teachers' table, his emerald green cloak billowing after him.

Dean stuck out his tongue at Crowley while his back was turned.

"Be careful, Crowley is going to get back at you for this," Victor said, but Dean ignored his warning. Crowley was always looking for reasons to take points off him anyway.

While Professor Singer explained about the Sorting Hat, Dean had a look at the first years lined up at the back of the Hall.

"There, that's my brother," he said, pointing at Sammy. He had to speak in a very low voice to avoid being harangued by Crowley again. Victor and Gordon craned their heads to get a better look.

"The tall one, next to the blondie?" Victor asked.

Dean nodded, even though he never thought of Sam as tall since he was his _little_ brother. But it was true that Dean's old robes didn't fit him and he'd had to buy new ones.

The Sorting Ceremony lasted for what seemed like hours. Dean had only eaten one turkey sandwich for lunch and he was starving, but that year the Hat seemed to be taking forever to decide. Moreover, by going in alphabetical order, Sam's was going to be the last name called. Dean started to think about how to set up tryouts for the team.

He had just decided that he should reserve the Quidditch pitch first thing on Monday when he noticed a familiar face. "Harvelle, Joanna," called Professor Singer, and Dean recognized the girl he'd met at Ollivander's. Her head was held high and she looked very determined, though she clenched her hands around the edges of the stool when Singer put the Hat over her eyes. After a handful of seconds the Hat yelled, "Gryffindor!"

Their table clapped as Harvelle took off the hat and went to sit with the members of her new House. Dean would have liked to talk to her, but she picked a seat far from where he was.

After Harvelle there was another girl, "Masters, Meg," who ended up in Slytherin. Then it was the turn of "Moore, Jessica Lee," the cute blonde girl that Sam had been talking to on the train. The Hat kept her sitting for almost one minute before sending her to Ravenclaw. Dean saw that Sam was pouting and felt a bit sorry for him. Surely his brother had been hoping that they would end up in the same House.

The last letters passed very slowly. O, R, two Ss... Then, finally, "Winchester, Samuel," Professor Singer called.

Sam sat down on the stool and looked around the Hall. Dean waved, but he wasn't sure that Sam saw him before Professor Singer put the Hat over his eyes.

Students and teachers waited while the Hat thought about which House would get the last student of the year. And waited. And waited some more.

"How long is this going to take?" Gordon whispered. "It must have been ten minutes already!"

"Not that long, surely," Victor said, but it was true that Sam's Sorting was taking the longest time. Every now and then he squirmed on the stool, but the Hat didn't give any sign that it was close to a decision. The professors seemed surprised too, and some were glancing at their pocket watches.

Then finally the Hat took a deep breath and yelled, "Ravenclaw!"

There was a huge applause as Sam, crimson in the face, took off the Hat. For a moment Dean thought he'd misheard, but the table where Sammy sat down was definitely the Ravenclaw one. Dean gaped at his brother.

"What?" Gordon began, but Victor elbowed him in the ribs to make him shut up.

Dean turned his back to the other tables and ignored the Headmaster's welcome speech. He focused on the food, even though all of a sudden he didn't feel hungry any more. Victor and Gordon tried to engage him in conversation, but Dean's answers were laconic and soon his friends gave up and started talking about a Quidditch match that the two of them had seen over the summer.

As soon as the desserts disappeared, Victor stood up. "I've got to show the first years the way to the Tower," he said. "You two go ahead, I'll see you in the dormitories."

Dean and Gordon left the Great Hall together, but on the stairs they crossed paths with a group of Ravenclaws going the other way. Sammy was with them, and Dean noticed that his brother was avoiding his eyes.

"We've got to talk," Dean told Sam. He took his brother's arm and dragged him in a corner of the landing, ignoring both Gordon and the Ravenclaws.

Sam pouted and stared at the floor. "I'm sorry, Dean," he mumbled.

Dean hadn't expected that. "Come on, what are you saying?" he said. "It's true I was disappointed, but it's not your fault. I'll still see you around at lunch and after lessons. Try not to get into troubles just because I'm not around!"

He was trying to make it sound like a joke, but Sam seemed more and more dejected. At the end, he confessed. "Yes, it's my fault," he said. "The Hat couldn't decide, so it asked me to pick between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw."

Slowly, Dean understood what his brother was trying to say. His smile completely vanished from his face. "You're saying you could have been in Gryffindor," he said, glacial, "but you chose another House?"

Sam nodded. "I thought about it, Dean, I really did, but..."

"But what, Sammy?" Dean snapped. "Gryffindor is my House! Everyone from our family was in that House, mum was in that House!"

"But I'm not you!" Sam yelled. He was on the verge of tears. "And I'm not mum either!"

Before Dean could reply, the Ravenclaw prefect came to see what was happening to one of her first years. She was a brown-haired, bespectacled girl that Dean knew by sight. She'd flirted with Dean at times, but tonight she didn't seem in the mood.

"Dean Winchester, stop bothering my students or I'll tell the Head of your House," she said, stern. While she was scolding him, Sam hurried back to the group of Ravenclaws.

"Leave him alone," Gordon told Dean after the prefect and the first years had moved away. "If your brother chose them instead of his family, it's not worth it to get angry because of him."

Dean reached the dormitory in a foul mood. When Victor returned, Dean was already in bed, with the curtains drawn around him to avoid being disturbed. It took him a long time to fall asleep.


	3. Mysteries and mistakes

**Chapter 3: Mysteries and mistakes**

Dean's bad mood lasted until breakfast. Victor gave the Gryffindors their timetables, and Dean couldn't help but smile when he saw that his first lesson was Care of Magical Creatures.

They went back to Gryffindor Tower and quickly got their books. Gordon had Divination, so Dean and Victor said goodbye to him on the stairs and headed outside, towards the area near the Forbidden Forest where Professor Singer's classes took place.

"Hello, boys," the professor greeted them. A large, floppy, old hat was shadowing his eyes, and he was wrapped in a cloak to protect himself from the chilly morning air. "Did you have fun on your holidays?"

"Yes," Dean and Victor chorused. The rest of their class wasn't there yet, so they approached the professor's table to exchange a few words before the lesson.

"Which creatures are we studying today?" Victor asked.

Dean looked around to see if there were cages hidden behind the tables. "Are we going into the Forest again?" he asked, his eyes shining at the thought.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Singer replied. Dean and Victor nodded. "Instead, today you'll hand in your summer homework, and then we'll go over last year's material." He gave Dean a distrustful look. "You've done your homework, haven't you, boy?"

Dean made a face. "Yes, Professor," he replied. It had taken him a whole week to finish the essay Singer had given them, and he would have very much preferred owning a Crup than having to describe how to care for one. "I've finished all of your homework." He tried to look like a diligent student, but Singer knew him too well.

"You better have done _all_ homework, not just mine," he said. "Last night, Crowley seemed really cross with you. What the hell did you do this time?"

"Nothing at all!" Dean complained. Next to him, Victor turned his head to hide a smirk.

Singer glared at them both. "There's nothing funny, Henricksen. Now that you're a prefect you should be on your best behaviour, and mind your idiot friends too."

Victor bowed his head and apologized, but Dean was more stubborn and kept silent.

"Anyway," the professor said, "your little brother..."

Dean didn't want to talk about Sammy. He remembered that he had a question for Singer. "Professor, you know that first year girl?" he asked, not caring that he was interrupting the professor while he was speaking. "Jo Harvelle?"

"Boy, I'm not so old and barmy that I'll forget about the students in my own House," Singer replied. Then he shook his head. "If you're thinking about asking her out, forget about it. Her mum would kill you in the blink of an eye."

"You know Mrs Harvelle?" Dean asked, eagerly. "We met her and Jo in Diagon Alley while we were shopping for school supplies," he explained. He tried to explain as best as he could, mangling the words in his haste to tell Singer everything before the start of the lesson. "I thought all of my father's friends were Muggles. Professor, you knew my parents since before they got married, could you tell me something more?"

"Did you ask your father?" Singer said.

Dean nodded. "He said that Mrs Harvelle knew my mother."

Professor Singer frowned. "And...?"

"And that's all," Dean said. "My father never talks about my mother."

Singer shook his head. "Then let it go," he said. "If your father doesn't want to tell you, it's not my place to meddle. Now take a seat, class is starting."

The rest of the students were arriving, crossing the lawn in small groups. Reluctantly, Dean and Victor took a place at one of the large tables.

Talking to Singer had been a waste of time. Dean had hoped to find out something about his mother and Harvelle, but it seemed as if the only person who could tell him about them was his father, and his father didn't want to talk about them.

* * *

><p>That night, Dean had a war council with his team. One of their Chasers and one of their Beaters had graduated at the end of the previous year, leaving them with only five players.<p>

"We don't have any reserve players," Dean said. "We need to find new players quickly, and start scheduling practice sessions as soon as possible."

Gordon huffed. "We could start without the new players," he said. "Present company excluded, everyone in Gryffindor sucks at Quidditch."

"Is this how you speak about your future teammates?" fourth year Gwen asked. Her cousin Christian, the other remaining Chaser, nodded.

Victor glared at Gordon. "I don't usually interfere with your attempts to make yourself hated," he said, "but Quidditch is a team sport."

Dean agreed with him. "I reserved the Quidditch pitch for Saturday morning, I want everyone there at eleven o'clock for tryouts. It's not going to be that bad," he added, talking to Gordon. "We'll just have to pick those who suck less."

Obviously, Dean had forgotten that the universe hated him, and that if something could go bad it would go bad. Or worse.

When on Saturday morning he headed towards the Quidditch pitch with his broom over his shoulder, the first thing he noticed was the whole Hufflepuff Quidditch team walking out of the stadium. They seemed in high spirits, which in turn made Dean frown.

Hufflepuff's captain, Tessa White, was the first to notice him. "Good morning, Winchester," she said. She was always friendly, but Dean wasn't in the mood for chit-chatting.

"Tessa," he replied with a curt nod. "What are you doing here? I reserved the pitch for the morning."

"Yes," she replied, "but only from eleven o'clock. Our team just finished tryouts."

Dean hadn't expected the other teams to act so quickly. But, after all, Tessa was very determined. The previous year, her team had won the Quidditch Cup after narrowly defeating Gryffindor in an intense match. As long as she was captain, Hufflepuff wouldn't give up the Cup without a fight.

"Who are your new players?" Dean asked her.

Tessa stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "Sure, let me introduce you," she said. "After all, it's no big secret, if I didn't tell you their names you'd find out from someone else." She motioned to a pair of tall, burly boys behind her. Dean recognized them because he had Herbology class with them. "Our new Beaters," Tessa said. "And I don't think you know our new Seeker, Castiel Milton?"

Dean gaped at the sight of Castiel's dark head appearing from between the shoulders of the two taller boys.

"Hello Dean," Castiel said.

"What the hell are you doing here?" was all that Dean could say. "You didn't tell me that you played Quidditch!"

Castiel shrugged. The fact that he was on the Hufflepuff team pissed Dean off more than he could say. It was true that he and Castiel had spoken for the first and only time on the train, but Dean thought that Castiel could have bothered to mention the fact that he was going to try out for Seeker. Especially since he knew that Dean was Gryffindor's Seeker.

Tessa and the rest of her team were looking at the two of them with great curiosity.

"You already know each other?" Tessa asked. Luckily, before she could ask any more questions, the Gryffindor team showed up and the Hufflepuffs had to leave. "Good luck with your tryouts," Tessa told the opposing team.

Dean, sullen, stared at her while she and her team walked away. Tessa and Castiel walked very close, and seemed busy discussing strategies.

"What were the Hufflepuffs doing here?" Gordon asked. "Were they trying to spy on our tryouts?"

When Dean told his team about Hufflepuff's new players, Gordon's mood improved.

"They're so full of themselves, choosing such a newbie Seeker," he said with contempt. "Their bad. We're going to wipe the floor with them."

Victor was more cautious. "Who knows," he said with a shrug. "I've never seen this Milton play, but I think he has a couple of aunts playing for the Holyhead Harpies. He could be good."

Dean shared Victor's concerns. He didn't know about Castiel's aunts (the Miltons were so many that he always lost track of all their famous relatives) but what worried him was that Tessa wasn't the kind of person who was full of herself or took her opponents lightly. If she'd chosen a newbie like Castiel to play Seeker, it meant that Castiel had talent.

"We'll have to keep an eye on the Hufflepuffs," Dean said. Then he led his players on the pitch, and finally they started the tryouts.

The morning didn't go well at all. First thing, when Dean started reading the list of prospective players, he found the name of Jo Harvelle on top of the list.

"First years can't be on the team," he told her, taking her aside. "Anyway, you can't be serious? You want to play Beater?"

Dean tried to smile because he thought the whole thing was a joke, but Harvelle didn't look amused at all.

"Why not?" she said. "I'm much better than all these other gorillas who only think about hitting the Bludgers as fast as they can."

"Maybe, but the rules say that first years can't be on the team," Dean replied. "If you don't like it, you can complain to Professor Singer." He felt like a coward, bringing up the rules only when it suited him, but he didn't want to waste time arguing with a kid.

"Typical," Harvelle huffed. She left the field, stomping her feet, but instead of going back to the castle she sat in the stands and started making scathing comments every time that a player made a mistake.

There were many mistakes that morning. Much to Dean's dismay, Gordon had been right to say that the other Gryffindors sucked. They made stupid blunders, didn't follow instructions and hindered each other in mid-air. Gordon himself wasn't doing anything to improve the situation. Dean asked him to send Bludgers against the prospective Beaters, at different speeds and angles to judge everyone's level, but Gordon's only goal was to unseat as many players as possibly.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Dean asked, a couple of hours later. Beneath them, Victor was helping a bruised boy off the pitch. He was the third casualty already.

Gordon shrugged. "I'm trying to get rid of the weakest players."

Dean would have gladly got rid of him, but just the fact that he could hold his Beater's bat without dropping it made Gordon superior to all the other applicants.

The Chasers were not as bad, and Victor was trying to test them and not to kill them, but none of them stood out particularly. They ended picking Pam, who would have been good if it wasn't for the fact that she was blind as a bat and couldn't play without her thick glasses.

They argued for the longest time over the new Beater. Gordon wanted to play alone, insisting that all the other Beaters were morons and they would only hinder him. However Dean was the captain and he eventually got his way. He picked Ronald, a chubby sixth year who had distinguished himself more for his strength than for his aim. When they told Ronald that he'd made the team, he was so excited he fell off his broomstick.

At that, Even Harvelle stopped making nasty remarks and just shook her head in a disconsolate way before leaving for lunch.

Dean headed to the showers with the certainty that his first day as a captain couldn't have gone any worse.

* * *

><p>Potions classes were always torture, but over the summer Crowley had reached new levels of nastiness. He prowled the classroom and breathed down the Gryffindors' necks while they worked, subtracting points for every little mistake.<p>

When Dean accidentally blew up his cauldron, Crowley didn't miss the chance and immediately bore down on him. "Winchester, what did you do this time?" he asked, glaring at the mess. "Three porcupine quills, _three_, not a whole handful! I don't understand how it can be possible that in five years I haven't managed to get anything into your empty head. This year you've got OWLs, and given your current level you'll be lucky to get a P."

Dean covered his face with a sleeve and tried not to breathe in any of the grey smoke coming from his cauldron's blackened remains. He wasn't quite that hopeless at Potions, but he didn't feel like studying Crowley's subject. He didn't care about his grades, and he was looking forward to finally stop taking that class next year.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," Crowley said, "and clean up this mess."

From the other side of the dungeon, the Slytherins were snickering. Crowley hated all of them too, especially the Miltons, but he never took points from them because he was the Head of their House. Under his glare, everyone stopped laughing.

After Dean mopped up the potion from the floor as best as he could, Crowley told him to work with another student. "Not one of your pals from Gryffindor," he warned him when Dean immediately pointed towards Victor. "You'd just waste your time blabbering about your stupid Quidditch team. You'll pair up with a Slytherin, and if you end up killing each other, all the better for me."

Victor gave Dean a look of sympathy, while all the Slytherins leaned over their cauldrons and pointedly ignored him. Dean walked over to Anna and cleared his throat.

"Don't even think about it," she said without even looking up.

"Hey, Winchester!" called a voice from another table. Dean turned and saw Gabriel Milton waving to him. The look on his face was more like a leer than a smile, but Dean thought it would be better to pair up with him than to remain standing in the middle of the dungeon and wait for Crowley to insult him again.

He sat on a stool next to Gabriel, who was busy carefully weighing his ingredients. "What do you want?" Dean asked.

Gabriel looked at him from head to toe and gave him another of his smirks. "Given your skills in potion making, I think it's better for both of us if you don't do anything at all," he said. "I'll take care of this."

Dean glanced at him suspiciously and stared while Gabriel poured some crushed porcupine quills into the cauldron.

"It would be nice of you to thank me," Gabriel continued. "I'm being so nice and letting you work with me. I'm much nicer than my cousin Anna. By the way, let me give you some advice: leave my dear cousin alone."

"This is none of your business," Dean said in a whisper to avoid being overheard by Crowley, "but me and Anna broke up and I'm not trying to get back with her. I don't know what she told you, but..." He stopped when Gabriel started snickering. "What's so funny?"

"Very convincing, Winchester. _I'm not trying to get back with her_," Gabriel repeated. "Then what were you talking about with Cassie the other day?"

It took Dean a while to link "Cassie" with the kid he'd met on the train. "You mean Castiel? When I started talking to him, I didn't even know his name."

Gabriel seemed unconvinced. He poured the rest of the ingredients in a bowl and began to crush them with a pestle. "Sure, and then you _casually_ started talking about Anna," he said. Just then, Crowley passed their table, and Gabriel hastily pressed the bowl into Dean's hands. "Take this, if you're not doing anything the professor will notice. At least you can't mess this up."

"You're wrong," Dean said, thumping the pestle against the bowl to punctuate his words.

"Come on, Winchester, even you can crush belladonna petals."

"Very funny," Dean replied, rolling his eyes. "I meant I never talked about Anna with Castiel. We just talked about this and that."

"A likely story," Gabriel smirked. "I can't believe you spent hours with Cassie just for the thin pleasure of his conversation. I've known my cousin since he was born and I know that his sense of humour is comparable to that of a pickled toad. Except that the toad is funnier."

Dean slammed the mortar on the table with such force that part of the contents spilled on the table. Gabriel glared and started cleaning up the mess, but Dean didn't care about Gabriel's hurt feelings. "At least Castiel is a decent person, unlike his other relatives," he snapped.

Gabriel didn't seem impressed by this outburst. "That's good to know," she said simply. He still had an insolent smile on his face. "Anna will be happy to know that you weren't plotting anything that involves my dear little cousin."

"Silence, back there," Crowley ordered. Then he walked over to their table and spent the rest of the lesson staring at them, forcing the two boys to shut up.

Privately, Dean was glad he'd escaped Gabriel's questioning. As soon as the bell rang, he gathered his stuff and ran out of the dungeons as quickly as he could.

The Slytherins had Transfiguration next, so to avoid crossing paths with them Dean went directly to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, which was in the opposite side of the castle. Victor and Gordon arrived soon after.

"Why were you in such a hurry?" Victor asked. He was still slightly out of breath for having rushed up five flights of stairs.

Dean shook his head. "It's nothing. Gabriel Milton was pissing me off," he said. "I don't know why he thought I was trying to get back together with his cousin."

"The Miltons are all morons," Gordon declared.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Professor Azazel, their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers. He was a tall, gaunt wizard, and would have looked quite ordinary if it wasn't for the fact that he always wore a pair of tinted glasses, even inside the castle. No one had the courage to ask him if he had eye problems. He was someone that Dean didn't want to have as an enemy.


End file.
